


The Four Months

by EnglandsGray



Category: Cars (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-10-22 22:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglandsGray/pseuds/EnglandsGray
Summary: Edited and revamped - having read some incredible work and become more interested in the relationship between Lightning and Doc as a result.A way to fill the void between The Crash and Four Months Later - Cars 3.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cars and its brilliant cast of characters and locations are, regrettably, not my own. All credit - and all love - to Disney/Pixar.

The sound of his breath drowned out the roar of the crowd. Time slowed to a crawl, giving his body too much time to feel every sickening sensation and his mind free-reign to imagine in vivid detail what might come next...

  


The thought of which was almost unbearable. Behind his closed eyelids flashed images of crumpled metalwork emblazoned, not in red, but in shades of blue. Yellowing newspaper. The taste of regret was bitter on his tongue, mingled with that of his own oil.

  


When the asphalt came up to meet him time wound itself back up to speed at an astonishing rate. One shattering smash followed another as his chassis, roof, fenders and wings toppled over themselves as if there were none of the tonne weight of engine contained within them. Heat. The smoke he knew must be pouring hadn't even had chance to catch up with him but he sensed the tang of it as his entire body seemed to catch alight. 

  


_Going down in a blaze of glory_ , Lightning registered the absurd notion shoot through his mind. There would be no glory, not for him, not for his team. As he slammed to a halt what felt like a hundred miles from the point where he'd first hit the wall, it wasn't pain which finally caused him to black out. It was raw, overpowering, all-consuming disappointment. Failure.

  


  


Shock rendered Sally's wheels paralysed for a fraction of a second as she felt, rather than saw, her worst nightmare unfold before her eyes. An uncontrollable swerve, the first damage inflicted by the concrete siding, flying metal, flying sparks. Then the roll. Violence. The unleashing of a beast forever lurking at the back of the mind of all racers. Often foremost in the minds of their loved ones.

  


She shot out of the pit lane towards the now pooling smoke flanked by a fleet of whirling red and blue lights. The growing darkness of the evening which seconds before had added an electrifying atmosphere to the event of the season now intensified the strobing, impeding her view, and she cursed it. 

  


_Please, please, please_ she pleaded internally to goodness knows who; the action preventing her from screaming his name. She knew, right down to her core, that to stop this prayer, even for a second, would cause him to slip from her before she even reached his side.

  


_Stay back, please - stay back,_ came an official, unknown voice. Sally's fuel tank lurched as she took in the scene over the white and green-check bonnet of the paramedic. Lightning's rear fender had been completely obliterated by the crash, his spoiler was hanging off and every inch of his bodywork appeared battered, scraped, dented and raw. Smoke whirled around them, the taste of it was acrid, mixing with gasoline fumes, oil and burnt rubber. 

  


Medic vehicles swarmed, security arrived and held back Lightning's crew who had all flown to his aid alongside Sally and were desperate to help their friend. Sally became aware of Mater shouting over the din; his knowledge of engines, and that of his best friend's most particularly, making him forget his place amongst the medical experts. A track warden called out to him,

  


_Hey, you - tow truck - hitch this guy up, we need to get him to the tent, pronto!_

  


Mater stamped his front wheels. _Shoot,_ _no_ _! Kid's leaking just 'bout everythin’. If I pick him up_ _by the rear_ _he'll be drier than_ _the_ _dust bowl inside a minute. We need a trailer!_

  


_Please, please, please_ Sally continued her internal monologue, wishing she could see Lightning's face, his eyes, some tiny movement in his frame to show her he was breathing. All the times she'd wished he would slow down a little, now she longed for even a hint of the frenetic activity she expected from him. 

  


A trailer appeared, hoists were swung over the top of Lighting. Faster than any of the medics could react, Guido dashed in and secured the harness. Sheer terror at the plight of his friend and team-mate not diminishing but rather sharpening the little three-wheeler's lightning-fast mechanical skills. The lift began to raise, and Guido again shot to work beneath as fluid poured. The worst stemmed for the time being, Lightning was lowered carefully onto the flat-bed. Then, suddenly, everything that had been static was once again on the move. Sally jolted herself into action and followed the emergency crew towards the first-aid tent. Paparazzi scattered before the security vehicles, flashbulbs illuminating the convoy in an eerily over-bright light.  

  


_Pit crew mechanics only_ , came the order at the entrance to the tent, and Sally lost sight of Lightning as he was pulled inside. Mater, Filmore and Guido raced after the medics. On instinct Sally went to follow, but Luigi placed his front tire gently on her side, this slight touch making her jump out of her paint.

  


_Maybe it is best we wait a little..._

  


Sally's vision swam. _Please, please, please._

  


  


Frantic activity surrounded the lifeless race-car inside the tent as medics and mechanics alike fought to stem leaks, replace some parts and bypass others. Cables, leads and pipes were attached and vital fluids pumped through the ravaged system, all the while a diagnostics team monitored engine management system output on a screen. In racing, a fraction of a second was all it took to turn a virile, explosively alive competitor into a free-for-all pile of parts. The #95 team, to a man, felt sick at the sight.

  


_Guido,_ _man..._ Filmore started, trying to wrangle his panic-addled mind to practicality. He looked at the tube forcing orange fluid straight into his friend’s system. Automorphine. Kid was gonna need a lot of it. Pushing down the image of Lighting crying out in pain within the jail of his own unconsciousness, Filmore spoke again to Guido. _We…_ _we_ _should get what’s left of that fender and_ _spoiler off, must be hurtin’ real bad_ _._

  


Guido jumped into action and unbolted the ruined metalwork. Filmore winced. He'd seen a lot come through the garages of Radiator Springs, under the hood and out.  He'd seen some seriously trashed paint jobs at Ramone's, but nothing like what he was looking at now. It was hard to imagine the crumpled form in front of him would ever – could ever - be smoothed out. He saw the faces of friends back home in his mind, imagined their heartache as they watched on the TV, and his engine felt lodged in his throat. He couldn’t know that the live-feed had been replaced by visuals, this in itself confirming the seriousness of what had happened. Scrolling updates providing little information and even less relief. Hysteria growing from uncertainly and helplessness. He did know they all loved the kid. _Lotta good vibes coming your way, McQueen - you gotta be ok_ _ay_ _, man._

  


_Jovey, I need a 3 8ths!_ _Jovey?!_ Bellowed the surgeon, his paintwork a deep green splattered with shining oil. Panic flashed momentarily across the face of the minivan he had called to as she pumped a pedal beneath her sending fluid through one of the bleeping bypass machines now keeping Lightning's engine from destroying itself from the inside. 

  


_Doctor Corrigan, I’m..._

  


_Sally, Luigi - get in here!_ Hollered Mater towards the door. The medics were flat-out, five doing the work of twenty. The tow-truck made a quick decision – better to risk terrifying Sally now than to shatter her heart – and all of theirs – by failing to get McQueen’s condition under control. Luigi came rushing in and Sally's hood appeared inside the tent behind him. Mater spoke again quickly, as much to distract Sally’s attention from the horror unfolding around them all as anything else. 

  


_Luigi, get a hold o' this clamp. Sally,_ _take over_ _on that there pump - quick!_  

  


The did as they were told.

  


_Slow and steady, keep your cool..._ Jovey instructed Sally, placing a reassuring tire on her wing momentarily before dashing off to do the bidding of the surgeon.

  


_Please, please, please_ Sally intoned as she pressed downwards - something to focus on was good. She felt useful. She looked at the little green screen on the bypass machine, heard the beeping and whirring. She looked at the tubes and cables, following their progress along the floor and up. Then she looked straight into the face of the car she fell for and the searing pain inside overwhelmed her.

  


_That's_ _right_ _, Sally, 1,2,3,4..._ Mater had the sense to call to her then as her rhythm on the pump faltered.  Shaking her hood, she resumed the pace, breathing as deeply as she could though her system felt too full to take in air. Lightning's eyes were closed, his face restful, but Sally couldn't fool herself that she was looking at sleep. Blackened paintwork, where there was any left at all. Smashed glass. Gashes, dents and scrapes. _Oh, Stickers_. Unstoppable sobs racked her frame, but she kept pumping.

  


Fluorescent light blazed down, murmured instructions and shouted commands filled the air inside the tent which had become a little world within a world for the team around Lightning McQueen. Outside, the stadium could have blown away taking the 250,000 strong crowd with it and they would never have known. Or cared. Nothing mattered except what happened in here. If you could distil the Piston Cup series, purify it down to it’s elements, you wouldn’t be left with a vial of golden metal, but with one of the very essence of community. Those in the tent didn’t know, but the red flag had flown, the race had been halted and the eyes of practically every racer, crew member, journalist, commentator and fan trained now on the screen or the tent itself. All thoughts of trophies and rankings, who had the ear of a sponsor and who was dropped, who won and who didn’t, obliterated. Leaving only breath-robbing fear and desperate hope. Nothing mattered except what happened in there.

  


Minutes passed, or hours, Sally had no idea. Frightened numbness flattened her emotion, the ache in her axle from operating the pump a torturous but welcome distraction from her anguish. Then suddenly, a shift in atmosphere. The surgeon addressed the assembled vehicles.

  


_Fluids are stable, damage progression is_ _stable_ _._ _A_ _s yet is_ _the patient is_ _electrically unresponsive. We need to jump him._

  


Sally registered immediately that this was a turning point. Luigi, Guido and Mater clearly did too, their faces each conveyed their dread, the collective held breath speaking volumes. She swallowed, her insides recalling the lurching, nauseating feeling of having your battery forcibly re-started. She had been awake – just - when Doc had attended to her, been able to try to turn over herself. Would it be worse to be shocked awake by it? Would he wake up? What if he didn’t? She bit her lip.

  


Mater sniffed, then straightened. _Here, use mine, never failed a jump start in m’ life._

  


Jump cables were produced, attached to his battery and the medics linked them up to Lightning. Determination was etched on the features of the old truck - he would not let his best buddy down.

  


_Sally, when he comes to, stop pumping, ok?_ The minivan - Jovey? - appeared again at her side and spoke softly. Sally nodded, unable to take her eyes off Lightning. 

  


_Metal parts clear everyone,_ the voice of the surgeon rang out. Everyone backed off, breath held.

  


_3,2,1, ignition_

  


A medic fired Lightning’s starter remotely. Mater revved to maximise the power transfer to the race-car. Everyone watched, everyone waited. Nothing. No turnover. The air was electric.  Sally's senses now felt so intensely heightened she could have heard a needle drop. The most horrifying roller-coaster imaginable. She strained to hear, waiting for his breath, his voice. Coursing fuel in her system almost taunted her with how acutely aware she was. How alive. As if she were trying to compensate for Lightning's lifelessness. 

  


The surgeon quickly adjusted cables, turned dials on a machine. Tuning an engine could be the work of a lifetime, doing it in seconds was a mountain to climb for any doctor. Every single line of text-book knowledge, every single second of experience came good here. But even then, sometimes fate had other, insurmountable, ideas.

  


_Everyone clear. 3,2,1 -_

  


The jump surged down the cable, the ignition was fired, but no response came. 

  


_Come on, bud!_ Mater screwed up his eyes, shook his frame out and readied for another try.

  


_Clear, 3,2,1 -_

  


_Please, please, ple..._

  


Red eyelids shot open, bright blue eyes widened, the pupils immediately dilated and Lightning gasped and coughed as his engine was forced to turn over. Surprise made Sally take her tire off the pump, thankfully, as this instruction had deserted her mind. Relief might have swept over them all, but it didn't get a chance to as, in blind panic, Lightning revved hard and his tires span in reverse on the trailer; his confusion and desperation kicking in an urge to escape. 

  


_Ahh! What the... what is this?...._

  


The team surged forwards, fearful of finely tuned cables and tubing disconnecting, of the risk of further damage to their charge. Equipment rattled on its stands, the oxygen tube pulled taught and brought a canister clattering to the floor. Lightning recoiled from the attention and noise, sheer terror in his eyes. Mater tried to catch his eye over the top of the circled medics, without success.

  


_Lightning!_

  


Sally found her voice. Her shout cut through the chaos and found its target. The blue eyes met hers and she held them. For a moment silence descended. 

  


_It's okay, Stickers, it's okay..._

  


Lightning's breath came ragged and fast, but his movements slowed.  Sally rolled forward towards him a little, afraid to blink in case she broke their contact. She tried to smile, hovering tears making it difficult. She mustn’t break down, she had to hold it together – he was the one in danger, not her.

  


Lightning bodily slumped. Work resumed carefully around him.

  


_W_ _hat's…_ _what’s_ _happening_ _?_ His voice unsteady, speech thick, breath rapid.

  


_You had a bump, Stickers, that's all. Mater,_ _Filmore,_ _Luigi and Guido are here fixing you up, these guys are lending a wheel.  You don't remember?_  

  


Lightning stilled. Out of the dense fog in his mind came insubstantial, indistinct pictures. Blackness, all sensation... Then his focus began to return – in a rush he recalled his engine at the max, pounding the track. Storm up ahead. _Enjoy your retirement_. Fading... Oh, then it came back to him, alright. Skidding, spinning off, hitting the wall...

  


_Mr McQueen, try to remain calm. You're in good care here._ The surgeon spoke kindly but firmly, eyeing a machine which had begun to bleep more rapidly.

  


_It doesn't matter, Lightning,_ said Sally, watching the panic materialise in Lightning’s features and feeling it in her tank in sympathy - j _ust breath_ _e_ _\- look at me, Stickers, breath_ _e_ _..._

  


Lightning took a shaking breath, the sound catching in his throat. His eyes looked into Sally's for a moment, but soon flicked to look worriedly around the room. He wasn't with her, not really, not yet. She remained just a foot or so in front of him, encouraging him to breathe deeper and doing so along with him. Each of his sounded like a great effort, and suddenly, at the top of an inhale, his eyes closed and he winced in pain. Sally went to ask him if he was okay, but, the next moment, a mechanic attempted to operate a jack to raise the rear-right corner of his chassis and Lightning jumped and cried out as though he had been given an electric shock. His eyes watered as he squeezed them shut. Sally didn’t know what to do. She was spared the decision by Doctor Corrigan, who instructed his colleague to gently lower the jack before moving around to speak to Lightning.

  


_M_ _r McQueen,_ he said,  _you are clearly in pain. Can you tell me how bad it is?_

  


Lightning looked away and didn’t answer. Or couldn’t, Sally thought.

  


_The time to be brave, tough it out, will come, son, but that time is not now._ The surgeon persisted.  _Right now, we need you stable, and pain won't help that. Tell it like it is. Don't tear yourself up, kid._

  


A flippant, well-intentioned, remark from a stranger. No matter, Lightning's throat still constricted and he thought he might pass out. He heard the surgeon’s last comment in his mind, clearer than anything which had come back to him in the last few minutes, in Doc Hudson’s voice. The memory of Doc saying the very same to him in his rookie season dredged up from the depths of his aching mind. It was as though he had been ripped in two. He felt a desperate longing in his core to see his old crew chief, to receive reassurance that he didn’t even know if he deserved. But then he felt glad - so glad that guilt surged in his tank - that his mentor and great friend hadn’t lived to see him suffer then same fate as he. Lightning reeled. The wrenching pain he experienced must have shown on his face. Something gently touched his bumper, bringing his attention back to the room. Sally had rolled herself forward to reach him, and had lain her bumper on his. He collapsed into her, wishing she could lift the weight he felt from him even though he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy, let alone someone he loved. His frame shook, he could barely catch his breath. 

  


_Does it hurt?_ Sally asked through streaming tears. Lightning nodded.

  


The surgeon moved away wordlessly, spoke quietly to the diagnostics team and to the medics, who quickly began making adjustments to their computers and to the drips.

  


Sally pressed herself against Lightning, wishing she could absorb the weight he felt from him. She wanted to reassure him, she wanted to pour love on him, but she didn't trust her voice not to betray her uncertainty. Would he be okay? Would he ever be the same? Would anything ever be the same? She screwed her eyes up tight, emotion swamping her.   

Lightning felt the shake in Sally's bumper and opened his eyes. Worry suddenly cut through the fog. He pushed himself up on his tires, feeling white-hot bolts of pain shoot through him. He cleared his throat, not managing entirely.

  


_Sal – what’s wrong? Are you hurt?_

  


Hearing him say her name when she had feared he might never again lit a small fire of strength deep inside Sally. A small smile spread across her features as she shook her hood.

  


_Let me get this straight - Lightning McQueen is worried about someone other than Lightning McQueen? Who are you, and what have you done with my_ _Stickers?_

  


Sally gently kissed Lightning's bumper. He smiled lopsidedly. She saw just a flash of him, and hope swelled within her. It was in this moment that Sally thought for the first time of the millions of well-wishers both in the stadium and in homes and gathering places across the country. She sent up a silent thank you.  

  


The spot where Sally kissed him felt warm and as if it had never received so much as a scratch. Lightning settled back into her and gave in to the so very welcome feeling of peace now slowly spreading through his system. Voices began to float around him, and the pain receded. _It's not so bad_ , he thought dimly. Some machine or other beeped, an orange light flickered, the light just penetrating his closed eyelids. The wait light above the intersection. _Yeah, yeah - that's what it must be..._

  


_We've increased his pain medication and overridden his engine management system to place him in neutral - a kind of power down, if you will - to prevent him damaging himself and to allow the machines to take the strain. This should make transporting him easier for everyone and kinder on him._

  


Hoods nodded around the room, sombre, no longer panic-stricken. Numbness and exhaustion. Cautious relief that, for now at least, the worst was past. The surgeon asked the pit crew if they understood and invited their questions. Sally held hers, she knew the answers she sought could only be given by time. That, and an insane amount of luck.


	2. Chapter 2

A gentle pink dawn greeted Mack as he passed the roadside sign welcoming one and all to Phoenix. He knew it heralded another clear, sparkling day and he felt soothed by it after the worst journey of his life. On taco it had been unremarkable – Filmore, Guido and Luigi were no weight and no trouble. They were too quiet, and the reason for this was what churned Mack's fuel tank. The kid. Mack had rarely driven this kind of distance without McQueen since meeting him. He thought of the look of dejection in McQueen’s eyes that day, after the Smell Swell boss had driven away, leaving the youngster who everyone on the circuit knew as cocky, self-assured and constantly moving, lost for words and slumped on his tires. Mack had tutted and shook his cab – not ten minutes before, the racer he was driving had been similarly unceremoniously booted by the sponsor they worked for. Switch had railed and thundered, hurling words around which would make even a trucker blush. This was all part and parcel of racing. But McQueen had looked like he might break down and Mack’s heart went out – the kid needed friends, and Mack thought he could help with that.

  


Another occasion then came to mind when Mack had driven without McQueen - the time he'd, accidentally, lost him. He gingerly examined the part of his mind which feared this journey might also end with loss, but of a more permanent kind. He shook his cab, cross with himself. The kid would be OK. He had to be. Noting the directions of his on-board GPS, he left the interstate, bound for the Corrigan Institute of Mechanical Medicine. 

 

 

A couple of days before, Mater carefully rolled down the ramp at the rear of the largest vehicle he had ever laid eyes on. This thing had flown them - in the sky! - from California to Arizona, and he was damned if he could understand how. 

  


_Lordy, if you can g_ _e_ _t up above the clouds, buddy, I'm sure go_ _nna_ _stop watching my weight,_ he hollered up to the transporter plane as he slowly passed its front end following the fork lifts with their funny coloured bats and hi-viz paint.

  


Behind him, he heard Sally murmur her thanks. Between them, an enclosed trailer painted white and chequered green, whirling lights on standby should they be required. Mater had insisted he should be the one to tow his best friend home. Sally had insisted the greater part of the journey be by air. They had compromised, and Sally had won. _Darn attorneys._ So after Sally and the medical team accompanying them hurried the party through customs at the airport, Mater finally felt able to put the miles between McQueen and what had happened as they sped along the interstate.

  


Arriving at the Corrigan Institute of Mechanical Medicine Sally felt the first real relief she had experienced in days. She checked herself, though. She mustn't get complacent lest she risk causing a setback in Lightning's progress. Prior to this horrendous series of events had Sally ever entertained a superstitious thought? No, not for a second. Yet now she welcomed any sign which lifted her hope, feared any which brought doubt and actively sought to manage their fate with her actions.  That must be it; she needed - no - she craved control of the situation, and this was the only way she could achieve it. She'd be getting herself some lucky stickers next. _Lucky Stickers_. She closed her eyes briefly in prayer. 

  


Mater was shown where to tow the trailer and was followed there by the medical team who had worked tirelessly since the aftermath of the crash. Barely any sleep, barely any fuel, they had handed out treatment, assistance, care and reassurance all without turning a headlight. Sally felt she owed them her life in return for saving Lightning's.

  


A porter approached her. Being a pick-up, he offered to carry the luggage Sally had been left with by the party and, suddenly incredibly weary, she gladly accepted. She followed on autopilot as she was lead to the private room which had been allocated to her.

  


A half hour later and feeling slightly refreshed by the drinks which had been brought for her and Mater, who had joined her, Sally tried to keep her nerves in check. She hadn't seen Lightning now for a few hours, and after a journey of more than 24 when she had only taken her eyes off him when absolutely necessary, she felt unsettled.  Mater was unusually quiet, tiredness and care showing on his face and in his frame. An eternal optimist, always a ready smile - to see him like this made Sally's engine ache for her friend. She motored over to him and placed her front wheel on his. Their eyes met, no words could be summoned.

  


Lightning's surgeon, Doctor James Corrigan, pushed open the door and approached them. A green Citroen van, with a calming, authoritative air.  His presence helped to steady Sally. She listened as he updated her and Mater. Stabilising, remaining in a state of power down, bypasses still in place. 

  


_Work will now begin on damage repair, salvage and replacement of parts and systems. For his protection and comfort, Mr McQueen will remain powered down, though naturally his health will be closely monitored throughout. Once we believe his mechanical state to be sound, we will wake him. Tests will then be undertaken and, all being well, the process of repairing his shell will then begin._

  


Damage. Salvage. A vision of his best pal as a pile of rusting parts like those in his lot back home flashed into Mater's mind. He swatted it away by flapping his rear-view mirrors, and instead asked:

  


_How long before we can take him home, Doc?_

  


Corrigan looked into the pleading eyes before him. He would never grow fully immune to the heartache he read in the faces of his patients' loved ones. Masking his genuine uncertainly in this case with professionalism, he replied:

  


_Realistically, we would expect Mr McQueen to remain with us for two to four weeks. After that time, and if he is able to return home, we would expect ongoing rehabilitation to continue for a further 4 weeks, possibly longer._

  


As was most often the case, this news brought no relief to the faces of the vehicles he was addressing. He tried to soothe their concern, _I understand this is probably not what you want to hear. Please be assured, we will get Lightning home as quickly as possible, but our priority i_ _s_ _ensuring his proper and complete recovery from what has been a dreadful ordeal._

  


He paused and placed a tire on the wing of the blue Porsche. _As much as I like him, I don't want to see him back after I send him home._

  


He had a kind smile, and Sally was grateful to him. Not for the reassurance; she felt hollow at the thought of Lightning having to be here for a month, despite his words. But rather she was grateful for the truth and for the plan of action he had in place. It gave her logic, order and focus. These she sorely needed.

  


_I would advise you both to rest now. You have been very strong, and he will need that from you again in the coming days._

  


Doctor Corrigan nodded to Sally and Mater and left the room, imploring them as he left to ask questions at any time. Sally thought of Doc Hudson, wished with all her strength that he could be there with them. He would have known what questions to ask, would have naturally interpreted the medical jargon for them. Heck, Sally could well imagine Doc pushing through those forbidding doors himself and taking unquestionable charge of Lightning’s health, which he had so closely guarded when he had been coaching him. Sally felt inadequate in comparison and her tank dropped uncomfortably. Sally looked at Mater and knew they both must resign to inaction, which suited neither of them. 

  


  


A week later, Sally called Flo on the phone in her room at the institute. 

  


_Sally, honey, how ya bin?_ The welcome sound of Flo's voice unexpectedly made Sally's engine feel stuck in her throat. She went to speak, and found she couldn't. Flo sensed her sadness.

  


_Darlin’, has something happened?_ Flo's tank churned, she wanted to transport herself to Sally's side. She felt every mile between them at that moment. Flo had turned from the television on that awful night before the visuals had even started and dashed home to get ready to get on the road. She’d snapped at Ramone for suggesting she would be better to stay home as it was likely that Lightning would be moved. Her tears were hot with anger and this only worsened as the logic in his words began to sink in and she realised she would have to overpower her instinct to fly to the car she thought of as a daughter. Of course she, like everyone, wanted to be by Lightning’s side, but the visions which crashed in on Flo’s mind were of her Sally, frightened and alone.

  


Sally cleared her throat, took an unsteady breath.

  


_No, no, Flo, nothing's happened. Nothing new, anyhow. He's still under, apparently progress is good. I just... he..._

  


_It's ok_ _ay_ _, honey,_ Flo soothed, _I know, I know._ She knew worry of the kind that split you down the centre, filled you from top to tires. She'd felt it for Sally after she arrived in Radiator Springs. Broken down, worn bare and exhausted. Flo had took one look at the girl and opened her home and her heart. When you love like that, nothing but sparkling health and eternal happiness will cut it. 

  


_Honey, he is strong. He’s made it this far. And he's got it all - the best care he could possibly have - and I don't just mean those guys and gals at the centre. He's got us, he's got you. Ain't no way he won't come back to you. He ain’t no fool._ She had to believe it, the alternative was unthinkable.

  


Sally sniffed and smiled. Lord, but she wanted to see Flo right now. She wanted home. She felt there could not possibly be any part of her left to ache but yet the pull of home, of family, floored her just then. 

  


_Don't forget he's a stubborn little punk, too! Won't be beaten!_ She heard Ramone holler from the background. Sally laughed. She almost didn't recognise the sound. But the feeling was welcome, warmth spread and soothed her raw system like a balm.

  


_There ya go, honey, now that's better. Chin up. Blue sky's waitin' right behind the clouds._  

  


_Thanks, Flo. And thanks, Ramone! Was the journey home okay for everyone?_

  


Guido, Luigi and Filmore had arrived at the institute with Mack on the second afternoon. Having been updated and convinced that there was nothing further they could do for the time being, they left the following day for Radiator Springs. Mater had gone with them. Persuading him to do so had, quite honestly, been the hardest case Sally had ever had to argue. She knew that he wouldn't be able to stay away long, in reality. The strength of his loyalty to Lightning would win out. Sally didn't pretend that she didn't also long for the company and comfort of a familiar face. 

  


Sally chatted to Flo a little longer, resisting the urge to ask about the Cosy Cone or Wheel Well. She had left them in the capable wheels of her manager, Datona, and was milking her role of over- protective, absent CEO. Using it as a welcome distraction and channel for her pent up energy by maintaining an almost constant email correspondence with the Ferrari.  She thought of how lucky she had been to find such a reliable second-in-command in Datona - and recalled the look of shock and delight on Luigi's face when he had first clocked the new arrival.  Six pm now, the start of the dinner rush. The lights would be lit, the evening soft, wheels tired, tread dirty and faces smiling, gathering to sit and take in the view. Home. Soon. With him. _Please._  


	3. Chapter 3

Another dreary few days passed and Sally began to wonder if she might end up a patient at the institute herself. She felt she was beginning to lose her mind with the uncertainly and her heart from loneliness. Dr Corrigan had informed her that the majority of internal works were complete and, as far as preliminary tests could determine, had been successful. At this point, Sally had been allowed to see Lightning, albeit through a one-way glass wall. She gazed at him and her mind's eye had overlaid swirling smoke, flashing lights and she had heard the sirens so clearly she flinched. She tasted the burning air. She had felt a pounding in her head and hadn't stayed long. Her first thought after had been _that's not him_. An overwhelming sense of guilt that she could think such a thing instantly followed. Did she not love him enough to see past the battered shell? If only she could talk to him... but would that honestly assuage her doubt, her fear? Why could she not accept that progress was being made and take solace? She opened her email inbox and buried herself in work and her heartache in the back of her mind. 

  


  


A gently tinkling alarm accompanied by gradually fading in daylight from the automatic blinds at the windows. Sally felt envious of the wake up call the private room at the institution provided and made a mental note to look into upgrades... then she came to more sharply than the thoughtfully appointed system intended. She hadn't set any alarm.  Now she looked properly, the light coming through the blinds was watery and pale, tinged purple. It must be the crack of dawn. Dazed, she looked around and found a pad on the floor which stopped the alarm. She switched on a light just as a gentle knock came at the door. She motored over and opened it to find...

  


_Jovey..._

  


_Good morning, M_ _s Carrera_ _, I'm so sorry to disturb you so early._ Sally read caution in the eyes of the minivan, and tiredness. Sally knew Jovey had been on the medical team around Lightning from the word go, working almost constantly. She pushed down the rising anxiety brought on by looking at yet another reminder of that night.

  


_No matter, Jovey. Is everything ok_ _ay_ _?_  

  


_Yes. Well, there's been a development..._

  


Any remaining drowsiness left Sally's system in an instant.

  


_Yes?_

  


_Diagnostic assessments have been run in the last few hours and Dr Corrigan believes Mr McQueen should be woken._ Jovey's face didn't transmit the relief Sally felt this news should warrant. She continued, _the team planned to wake him in a_ _couple of_ _hours time, but his stats suddenly took a turn for the worst..._

  


Spotting the panic in Sally's eyes the minivan was quick to add - _He is stable, but Dr Corrigan wishes to wake him as soon as possible and requests your presence. Make the first thing he sees a familiar face._

  


_Ok_ _ay_ _. Ok_ _ay_ _..._ Sally cast around her as if she might find something to wheel which she would need in order to enact her role. Doc Hudson came to her mind, as he had every day since they arrived, as though if she asked his advice enough times in her mind he might actually answer her. Shaking herself, she cursed her feeling of being unprepared and wondered why she hadn't flown down the corridor towards the surgery the moment Jovey had appeared at the door. A heavy sense of portent sat in her tank as she began to follow the nurse. Now she began again her internal monologue. _Please, please, let him still be in there..._

  


  


An hour or so before Mater set off for home he and Sally took a drive in the beautifully landscaped grounds of the medical centre. Beetles buzzed and flowers bloomed, bringing a friend to Sally's mind. 

  


_Red would love this,_ she said, gently touching a nearby golden yellow flower with her tire. 

  


_Sure would,_ replied Mater, b _ig fella's got a big ol’ heart o’gold to bo_ _ot._

  


It suddenly occurred to Sally that she knew very little about the fire truck who was a big, reassuring and loving presence in their hometown and family. When her exhausted engine had finally all but given out and she had collapsed in a heap in the dirt just outside Radiator Springs, it had been Red and the Sheriff who had found her first. Red had carefully refilled her parched radiator and had shaded her from the relentless desert sun. Mater had towed her, Doc had cared for her, Flo and Ramone gave her a home, old Mrs Winchburg gave her a job at the motel, Lizzie told her (again and again) all there was to know about the little roadside cluster of shops and garages which came to fill the hole in Sally’s core. But the focus of their efforts had been Sally, her recovery, her progress, her enjoyment, her contentment. She had always felt grateful, but perhaps she had inadvertently looked past some of her friends while their focus had been trained on her.

  


_Mater?_ She rolled to a halt and the tow truck turned to face her, _h_ _as Red always lived in Radiator Springs?_

  


_Naw,_ Mater replied,  _since the 50’s, if I rec_ _ollect_ _,_ _Li_ _ved in the big city until the accident, then the Sheriff took him under his wing, asked for the postin’ to the desert to give the boy a quiet life..._

  


_Accident?_ Sally had no idea.

  


_Yeh, Red was puttin’ out a fire in one o' them fancy old hotels... when it came down, right on top of 'im_

  


Sally gasped. T _hat's awful, was he hurt?_

  


_Real bad_ , said Mater, _needed a lot o' work to get fixed up._

  


The tow truck paused, looked down at the ground. _I never knew 'im before, but the story goes when he came to he wasn't the same. Didn' talk none. Or didn' want to. Hasn't since._

  


Mater sniffed, a lurking fear brought to the front of his mind. Sally felt it too. She swallowed the lump in her throat. _So that's why he... why he's..._

  


Mater's eyes suddenly knitted, and he barked at Sally - A _in't nothin' wrong with 'im, he is who he is and that's good_ _‘nuff_ _!_

  


_Oh, Mater, I..._ Sally felt dreadful, she hadn't meant anything by what she’d said. She hadn't thought. _Of course, you're absolutely right. I'm so sorry_. Sally looked at the ground, her vision swimming in tears.

  


Mater sighed and gently nudged her bumper.

  


_S'alright Sally, I'm sorry, too. Just so darn scared bout m' buddy._ The truth he daren't voice to Sally was that he knew from years of working with spares and repair that too much damage, too many replaced parts could wear away at your soul. McQueen was lucky that he had been built after electronic engine management had been invented. If your ECU survived a wreck, then something of you could be salvaged. But still, surely there was only so much of you could possibly remain when you had to be taken back to your frame.

  


This exchange returned to Sally's mind in vivid technicolor as she motored along towards where Lightning was. Was? Had been? Is? Sally's head began to throb and she longed for relief. 

  


Turning a corner, they passed the one-way glass wall of the surgery. Sally couldn't see Lightning past the medic vehicles who were all engaged in feverish preparation. Jovey bleeped a card entry point and pushed open the door. Sally's paint prickled all over and lights danced before her eyes. She looked into Lightning’s face. Peaceful, devoid of pain. She steeled herself. He would come back to her. She would will it so. 

  


Dr Corrigan addressed the assembled vehicles. Again Sally was forcibly reminded of the night of the race. A moment and a million years ago. 

  


_On my word the neutral override command will be removed. In the event of no response, we move on to the automatic jump which is connected and standing by. Is everyone ready?_  

  


Nodding hoods. The surgeon made eye contact with Sally and gave her a fleeting, reassuring smile. Sally fixed her gaze on Lightning's eyes and visualised them opening, meeting hers. She felt a thrill go through her, nerves and excitement blurred.

  


_On my mark. 3,2,1 -_

  


_Please, please, please..._

  


Sally's daren't even blink. The complete and utter lack of drama of the kind they experienced when Lightning was jumped track-side didn't make what was happening now any easier to process at all. The quiet was deafening. The stillness unsettling. But then, a flicker above his hood. A flinch, accompanied by the smallest reverse movement of tires. Lightning gave a sharp intake of breath and Sally feared the same panic reaction he suffered before, dreaded the pain on his behalf. But he recoiled, cowering low away from something the rest of the room couldn't see. Dr Corrigan caught Sally's eye and urged her forward wordlessly. 

  


_Lightning?_

  


She spoke softly, sensing his fear and wishing to banish rather than worsen it. Slowly his eyelids lifted, closing again instantly and then blinking back open, startled by the bright light of the surgery.  She watched the blue iris' focus, absorbing every detail of them. Then finally, they made contact with hers. She held her breath. 


	4. Chapter 4

Birdsong. How had he gone his whole life never noticing how beautiful it was. Somehow even though this, his favourite view in the whole world, was dominated by rock and road, the soul-soothingly mellow sound of birdsong was the only appropriate soundtrack. The Cadillac mountain range, the waterfall, the ribbon of dirt road draped on the hillside. Radiator Springs. Home. Deep within Lightning’s core he felt warm and whole. Weightless. As though he could float up to the gently drifting clouds in the endless blue sky. His wheels could no longer feel the ground. Taking in the view to his left and right as he swam in the warm air, he was surprised to see a blue helicopter. Dinoco blue. _Nice_ , he thought. _Wait, what?_ As he watched this strange apparition the sky darkened behind it and fireworks suddenly exploded around him. Jumping and scanning wildly around he felt his fuel tank lurch as he began to descend. His wheels hit the asphalt behind the start-line and he barely had time to register the green flag before it was swung through the air and he leapt into action on instinct. Cars surrounded him on the track, suffocating him. He couldn't breathe. Breaking free of the pack he fought to oxygenate his system. Out of nowhere a menacing black figure loomed, towering over him. Electric blue stung his eyes and his cab felt like it would split open. His bodywork was on fire. His engine would surely burst through his hood...

  


_Lightning?_  

  


Her voice cut through the smokescreen in his mind clear as a bell. His hearing rang and his paintwork prickled. He tried to open his eyes, but they were met with blinding white light and he closed them quickly. Taking it more slowly he tried again and was greeted by blurred, indistinct shapes. Unfamiliar sounds. Longing to hear her voice again tugged at his engine as he tried to clear his vision. Then, there she was. Right in front of him. So close the slightest effort would bring him to her.  The world melted away. The the cooling mist of the waterfall and summer air. She was everything. 

  


_Sally._

  


Her green eyes closed briefly and Sally sighed away the weight of the world and smiled. _Hey, Stickers, enjoy your beauty sleep?_  

  


She rolled forward to him and touched her bumper to his. When Lightning looked at Sally he felt a most surreal, incredibly powerful sensation - as though he was looking at his very soul outside of his body. Her. He lived for her. 

  


  


  


Lightning’s soul might have been just about intact – held together as it was by having Sally right by his side, but recovery meant a whole world of unpleasantness for his body in the first 24 hours or so after he came to. His mind was rarely clear, more often hopelessly clouded. Thoughts had to squeeze through a black tunnel and, by the time they reached the front of his consciousness, seemed to lose their track and dissipate. They said he had been asleep – powered down – for days, yet he was exhausted down to his frame. They said to try to chat to Sally a little. As tubes were removed leaving only the line for pain meds, they said to try to move around a bit, get himself a drink when he wanted. But his eyelids frequently felt unbearably heavy, so too his axles and wheels, like his tires were made of lead. There was little pain, no crunching or seizing, but he felt a dead weight and, honestly, frightened of moving an inch. And when he did, the tiredness crashed over him almost immediately. He apologised over and over to Sally, when he couldn’t hold her face in his vision, couldn’t prevent his words slipping into the black-hole of sleep. But this wasn’t sleep like he’d known it. It wasn’t rest. A soup of unformed shapes or crystallised apparitions dogged his mind, alternately dragging him down into a horrifying alternate reality or sending him rocketing back awake feeling like he’d fallen off a cliff. The first fuel he took on without the tubes came back, water too. Sally’s tire on his wing had steadied the shivers but constant worry about whether any of it would get better persisted day and night.

  


Later that week, in a quiet moment, Lighting stared absent-mindedly at the orange tube pushing under his hood. His dose had, apparently, been reduced now the welds to his bodywork were complete.

  


_Y’don’t want too much of that stuff, kid. Messes with ya…_ Lightning’s tank dropped in it’s familiar way when Doc Hudson’s voice floated across his mind. Sometimes, the rawness of losing him was fresh. It certainly had been since  his  own  crash . Lightning sighed, closed his eyes, tried to sharpen the memory of the conversation.

  


_Feels like it does when you hang out downwind of Filmore’s on a summer night,_ Lightning had said, smiling. 

  


He had been more than happy with the deadening of the stinging pain in his suspension where it had taken a battering after he’d sent himself airborne to escape a wreck on the track. Again. Folks said he was unnaturally gifted in avoiding becoming embroiled in a pile-up, he almost never came out with so much as a scrape, but he wasn’t immune to damage.

  


_Hmmph,_ had been Doc’s reply.  _Lotta good that’s done him…_

  


Doc muttered something about sticking to moonshine as he began to loosen the fixings on Lightning’s cracked shock. He soon stopped, though, as his patient flinched, sucking air through his teeth.

  


_Y’alright, kid? That hurtin’?_

  


_Lil’bit…_

  


_One to ten?_

  


_Uh, about a four, I guess._

  


_Hmmm,_ Doc paused.  _Your paint feel hot? Or cold?_

  


_Don’t think so._

  


_Well, you tell me if anything changes._

  


Lightning might have frequently found himself on the receiving end of a gruff remark from the Husdon Hornet, had an idea or opinion shot down – usually with good reason; his mentor’s experience unfailingly trumped his own – but when it came to his health, Doc treated Lightning with a level of care he had not known since early childhood.

  


Doc set back about his task and, as the pain returned, Lightning looked up to the ceiling, gritting his teeth to distract himself from the discomfort. But this action made him feel dizzy, electric blue-coloured spots appeared in his vision and his tank turned nauseatingly. Fog seemed to gather at the edges of his mind and a wave of heat, immediately chased up by chills, swept across his paint.

  


_Uh… Doc? I don’t feel so…_

  


Before he’d even finished speaking he felt the lift began to lower and before he’d reached the ground Doc had popped his hood and patched his ECU into the reader.

  


_Don’t sweat it, kid – just breathe as deep as you can, we’ll take a look what’s goin’ on._

  


Lightning did as he was told as visions began to crowd in on his mind, their jagged edges snagging his conscious unnervingly. He’d never experienced anything like it.

  


_I’m putting a fluid line in,_ Doc said, turning away to prepare.

  


_What? Why?_ Processing made Lightning’s cab ache.  _Can’t I just have a drink? I...I’m fine…_

  


_And I’m an ice-cream truck. Your temperature is almost red-lining and I’m none too happy ‘bout your oil pressure, neither. You try to ingest anything right now and you’ll just bring it right back up._

  


_Where’s this come from?_ Lightning asked while Doc attached the line.  _The pain isn’t so bad…_

  


_You’re dealin’ with the pain just fine._

  


… _couldn’t I just have some more of the meds, get the change-out over with?_

  


_No._ Doc’s tone of voice made it clear his answer was final. The old man sighed.  _I hope you never have cause to need a bigger dose of that stuff, kid._

  


Lightning closed his eyes to try to get the room to stop spinning.

  


After studying the screen a moment, Doc said – _We’re gonna put this work_ _here_ _on hold, give things a chance to settle down,_ _see about gettin’ hold of some different..._

  


_Aw, chief – do we have to? You said yourself the schedule’s already out the window on account of the delays this weekend. With breakin’ in the new shocks back at the Butte and gettin’ across country we need to be outta here tonight._

  


_You’re not goin’ anywhere._

  


_Doc – we could wind up scratching in Michigan if we don’t…_

  


_Lightning –_ this shut the racer up, his name only used by Doc when things were serious – _you are more important than all that._

  


Doc lowered Lightning’s hood carefully, leaving room for the line and cables to pass under. He eyed the youngster intently.

  


_I don’t wanna see you scratch, kid, but I’d sooner that than compromise your condition. Won’t help you in the long run._

  


_But…_

  


_But nothin’._ Here Lightning received the look the Rusteze team referred to as The Gavel. No arguing with His Lordship after. _Now pipe down and trust me._

  


  


Look or no look, Lightning hadn’t needed telling twice in that regard. He’d trusted the Hudson Hornet with his life. Literally – every week on the track he handed the management of his fate to the veteran racer, and gladly. The fact that every other car out there thought he was lucky-bordering-on-the-unjust to do so wasn’t lost on him. Away from work, though, he’d felt no different. Never in a million years did he expect the strength of feeling he had towards the old man to materialise out of their less than ideal introduction. Honoured wasn’t strong enough a word to describe how he felt about having been trained by Doc. Friend was nowhere near strong enough a word to describe how Lightning saw him. His own parents hadn’t really had the opportunity to teach him what those roles should look like. But if Lightning could’ve chosen a Father, basing his choice rationally on qualities and experience and more intrinsically, more importantly, on gut-feeling – it would’ve been Doc. As far as Lightning was concerned, he had made that choice. Whole-heartedly.

  


Lightning shook his hood, tears stinging his eyes a little where they were so dry from the air-conditioned, airless surgery. Once more – maybe the millionth time – he wished he could tell Doc how much he meant to him. How much he missed him – needed him here now, more so than ever. How he hadn’t the faintest idea how to drag himself up from the depths his wreck had plunged him into. Why hadn’t he asked Doc more about his own crash? About getting fixed up and what that had been like. He hadn’t been afraid to meet Doc head-on when it came to difficult conversations, but he’d always steered clear of what he thought was an entirely private matter, confined to the mysterious and unreachable land that was Doc’s personal history.

  


He felt himself descend further, felt the compression in his engine.  H e closed his eyes. Immediately he was greeted with a vision of the Hornet so crystal clear it made him jump out of his paint. 

  


_Pick it up! D’ya even wanna be here?_

  


His eyes flew open, frantically searching the room like he expected to find Doc sat right there, looking determinedly – accusingly – at him. Of course he wasn’t there. But something of the way Lightning felt during their training suddenly showed itself from out of the gloom. Something of the fire in his system which came from being pushed - hollered at from the sidelines of the track when his head wasn’t in the game.  Being reminded that he had to want to win. 

  


He  shook himself,  swept his gaze over the surgery again . Saw it for the first time.  Then he m otored over to get himself a drink. 


	5. Chapter 5

_Ok_ _ay_ _, Lightning, you ready?_

  


Pain had given way to aches which Lightning felt would be best remedied by a good hard blast around the track. Just a hint of nerves swirled in his tank. His mind was clear. Focussed. He nodded to the Doctor. _Oh y_ _eah,_ _Lightning’s_ _ready,_ he thought.

  


_S_ _tart your engine,_ Dr Corrigan said

  


The V8 rocketed into life with no effort and the surgery and its contents shook. 

  


_How's that? Feel ok_ _ay_ _?_  

  


_Better than okay, Doc – it’s like I've been tuned up! Feels great!_

  


Lightning gunned his engine, aching to put the power down through his too-clean, box-fresh tires and hit the road. 

  


_Easy there, son, don't overdo it._

  


_Are you kiddin' me? I've done less than nothing for too long, I'm ready to roll!_

  


_Exactly, you've been out of action, you need time to recover your full strength. You push it too hard too soon you'll end up right back where you started._

  


Lightning rolled his eyes, frustrated. Of course he knew the Doc was right, he just couldn't stand the waiting around, the lethargy it brought. 

  


_Now, let's get your wheels rolling. Take it up to 10 miles per hour._

  


Lightning did as he was told with as much restraint as he was capable of. 

  


_Holding steady, looks good here - how's that feel?_

  


_Slow,_ Lightning dead-panned. 

  


The Doctor chuckled. _I'll make you a deal, you do the next week my way and I'll give you a run for your money down at Willy's Butte when you get home._

  


Lightning stopped in his tracks on the rollers. _A week? You think I might only be here another week?_

  


Hope shone in the kid's eyes. _Keep on track and, yeah, I reckon that's about right_

  


A week he could handle. _Alright_ _Doc, shall we go wild and try 20?_

  


  


Sally felt the floor shake as she heard the sound of Lightning's engine. Music to her ears. She daren't think of him as being back to himself, still too afraid of jinxing their progress. But he was on his way.  She was out on the balcony at the front of the centre getting some air. The gentle sunshine of the late summer morning felt glorious on her paint and she smiled up to the quietly drifting clouds. Peace settled over her from her top to her tires. Another roar of his engine. This time it sent shivers through her. She whistled. Lord, but he was hot. She turned around and was motoring back inside, thinking of heading down to the surgery, when Lizzie's voice came to her - _I wanna get a look at that sexy hot rod!_ Sally blushed and smiled to herself. Just as she got to the door she heard a metallic rattling. _That doesn't sound good_ , she thought, nerves in her tank suddenly. Then she heard a familiar voice.

  


_McQueen! I'd know that unnecessarily over torqued, gas guzzlin' engine anywhere!_  

  


_Mater!_ Sally called as she saw him rumbling his way up the driveway and she made her way down to meet him. 

  


_M_ _iss_ _Sally, good t' see ya,_ Mater said as he rolled past her in the foyer, leaving dirty tread marks in his wake across the pristine floor. _Now, if you'll excuse me I need to find my best bud, sounds like he's_ _all fixed up_ _and ready to come on home!_

  


_Wait up, Mater..._ Sally began. Then she decided to resist the urge to launch into a diatribe of caution, the tow-truck was so excited she couldn't take the wind from his sails. And, being honest with herself, she too wanted to enjoy the optimism the sound of Lightning's engine had brought them both. Grinning, she followed her friend.

  


  


The following day, Mater was keeping Lightning company as he underwent another session of work to his shell. Swathes of crumpled metalwork had been replaced, but plenty remained and required smoothing out.  Panel-beating wasn't all that painful, but it wasn't a walk in the park. Plus, if they had thought that McQueen was a reluctant patient before, that was nothing to the belligerence written all over him now after a couple of weeks in the medical centre. So, Mater thought, some company might be in order. 

  


_So, ya gonna leave one dent? To remember it by?_

  


Lightning winced and his brow knitted with each clang of the hammer to his left wing. 

  


_Remember? No way. I just wanna forget this whole thing ever happened,_ he said.

  


Mater began:  _Once crashed into a post pretty hard. Done crumpled all my bumper in..._

  


_This in the days before you were the_ _W_ _orld’s_ _B_ _est_ _B_ _ackwards_ _D_ _river?_ Lightning's eyes rolled skywards.

  


_Naw, this was in the front. Darn post toppled right over..._

  


Lightning didn't respond.  The mechanic at his wing tapped away.

  


_Trouble was it landed right on the roof o’ the old public conveniences. Whole kit ‘n caboodle done crashed to the ground like a stack o' spare hoods in the wind._

  


Now the race-car grimaced. The hammering paused.

  


_Yeah. Wouldn't been so bad 'cept for the Sheriff was at that precise moment availing himself of the facilities. Caught with his tailpipe between his wheels, if you catch m' drift?_

  


There were several cars in the room and they all, Lightning included, sniggered and spluttered in amusement. 

  


_Sure the Sheriff wouldn't mind forgettin’ that day, Mater,_ Lightning said, imagining the look on the grumpy old boy's face and smiling. 

  


_For sure. Not me though. Made sure when I got fixed up I left a nice little wrinkle. Always reminds me of the Sheriff, it does..._

  


Lightning laughed again. The mechanic continued his work with a decidedly more upbeat rhythm. 

  


  


Sally awoke to the sound of raindrops at the windowpanes. They got so little of it at home she couldn’t make her mind up if the sound was pleasant or not. Switching on a light she added another day to her mental tally. Day 22. Over three weeks. No, no - less than four weeks, she checked herself. Oh, how much worse this might all have been. She sighed and moved over to the desk. She made herself a drink while her laptop booted up. Settling herself a few moments later to send Datona an email requesting a progress report on a problem with the roof of one of the cones, Sally was disturbed by a knock at her door. When she opened it to the corridor beyond, the drizzly weather made it look gloomy.  She found Mater standing there. 

  


_Mornin’, Sally,_ he said

  


_Mater - you look exhausted!_ _D_ _o you want to come in for a drink?_ Sally saw the redness in his eyes and slump in his frame. Since Mater arrived, they had taken turns to see Lightning and occasionally had stayed long into the night to try to relieve the tedium of being cooped up in the surgery for so long. Anathema to a race-car. Mater looked as though he might have been there all night. She asked him if he had.

  


_Yeh. Kid's desperate to get out, mechanic said he might get finished up if he worked all night, so he did. Primer's just dryin' off now._

  


Each day Sally had cause to be thankful to and, truthfully, astonished by the staff at the centre. Tirelessness and selflessness personified.  Then this information sunk in...

  


_So, the work's done?_ Her eyes opened wide.

  


_Yep, the Doc's with 'im now..._

  


Sally dashed through the door, letting it close behind her. _Well let's go,_ she said hurriedly. Mater followed a little slower.

  


  


Doctor Corrigan was speaking to Lightning and, the race-car didn't mean to be rude, but he wasn't listening. He was staring through the rain splattered windows at the roof-line of the surgery which had been for him a place of healing and of torture. Today – finally - he would taste freedom. 

  


_.... especially in conditions like these,_ the surgeon was saying. Lightning realised Doctor Corrigan had paused and pulled his attention back. He knew his engine worked, knew he had no stiffness or grinding anywhere after the marathon of tests. He felt confident. 

  


_Yeah, yeah, Doc, of course,_ he desperately wanted to be allowed outside. 

  


_Ok_ _ay_ _. This way then,_ Doctor Corrigan relented, eyeing his patient knowingly. He lead the way to the doors through which Lightning hadn't set tire since the day he arrived. They opened, and Lightning saw Mater and Sally waiting for him. His heart lifted, his smile followed. He kissed Sally's fender as he reached her, and bumped tires with Mater. 

  


_How are you feeling?_ Sally was trying to hide her nerves, Lightning could tell. He spoke to reassure her, ashamed of himself to have only then noticed for the first time the look of tiredness and stress in her features. She’d been through hell because of him. For him. He touched his tire to her side.

  


_Fine. Better than fine. I feel like me again, Sal. I just need to get the dirt beneath my wheels._

  


_Too right, bud!_ Chimed in Mater, _once ‘round the block and you'll be right as rain!_

  


Sally thought privately that there was nothing right about rain when it came to test drives. She raised her eyes to the heavens as she fell into motion behind Lightning. 

  


  


Those who found themselves in the care of the Corrigan Institute of Mechanical Medicine often compared it to a first class vacation resort. Surgeries, treatment rooms and rehabilitation suits, though high-spec and gleaming, were quickly forgotten. Memories of lush green landscaped grounds, panoramic views from sun terraces and top-of-the-range driving facilities always stuck in the forefront of the minds of past patients.  Mater whistled as they arrived at the bespoke test track facility.

  


Where Mater saw the clean lines and precision maintenance of the superb track, Sally saw nothing but danger. She hadn't expected to feel unnerved by it, she hadn't ever felt that way at any of the raceways she had visited before. But then she hadn't lived her worst fear before. She took a deep, steadying breath. 

  


Lightning approached the line barely even noticing his surroundings.  He was nervous, perhaps more so than he had been before in this situation. But, heck, he had never been in this situation before, never gone so long without putting his tires to the road. It was only natural he would feel like he did, right? He closed his eyes. 

  


_Speed. I am speed._ It came unbidden to his mind, so ingrained was it in his psyche. 

  


_Caution, Mr McQueen,_ came the voice of Doctor Corrigan. _I want you to take this easy, do you hear? One lap. At the moment you have a limiter on, 50mph maximum. If you're good I'll think about removing it._

  


Lightning nodded to the Doctor, medical vehicles surrounding screens and machines by the track-side with him. 

  


_Careful, Stickers, please,_ thought Sally from the sidelines. 

  


Another deep breath and Lightning fired up his engine, the roar of it echoing and amplifying around the bowl of the track. Fuel coursed. A countdown light began at the top of his field of vision. Red. Red. Red. Green.

  


Lightning sank his rear end hard into the ground. His tires span for a moment and squealed before finding purchase and he was gone. He flew down the straight, but quickly noticed the restriction the limiter was placing on him. He'd be at 100 by now. Frustration prevented him enjoying the freedom the drive should have given him.  Rounding the fourth turn he slowed back to the line. 

  


Mater whooped – _Yeah!_ _Get it done_ _!_  

  


This made Lightning smile, and he told himself to grow up, get with the programme. Corrigan did say he would take the limiter off later, maybe. 

  


Several unbearably slow laps later and Lightning's patience was, once again, thin. Gratefulness forgotten, he snapped at one of the mechanics who asked to reconnect him to the diagnostics machine for a slight adjustment.  The little car scurried away as soon as the leads were attached and Lightning pushed away the guilt he felt. He was done with this. Staring moodily down the straight in front of him, the recurring train of thought which had plagued him for almost a month took up residence in his mind. Jackson Storm. This was his fault. He had taunted - goaded - Lightning on the track. The rookie's ability to glide past leaving everyone in the dust, and Lightning's own inability to comprehend how, enraged him. Storm had pressed and pressed at the age button until Lightning had self-imploded. He’d made him fail. Lightning almost growled he felt such anger and, underneath, hot, poisonous shame.

  


Why is it that the mind will come up with it’s own images if it doesn’t have a memory to suit? It will cheerfully cut up real memories, splice them with images from photographs and patch the gaps with things it simply makes up on the spot, offering the results back to you as if you ought to be grateful. And why, when these spectacularly inaccurate visions are unhelpful, painful, or add weight to our internal argument that we are failing in some way, are they crystal clear and unmovable? Lightning had, of course, caused Doc Hudson to glare at him, been told to beat it by him, been driven away from even. But none of this had happened after he had mended his ways, nothing remotely like it had happened while Doc had been his crew chief. Wholly and completely the opposite. And yet, in these moments of regret, when embarrassment ran like boiling oil through his pipes, his mind presented him with the Hornet, real as though he could roll forward and touch him, disappointment written all over his face. The look he saw there letting him know that events of the last months had blown Lightning’s Piston Cup glory out of the water.

  


His mind didn’t need to work at all in order to twist the knife, though, when it moved on to show Lightning the image of the Hudson Hornet beaten, wrecked on the sand, hollow and wasted. Rejected. Forgotten. These vile imaginings came to him as he sat there at the line and he hadn’t a hope in hell of recognising them for what they were. The rain had begun to worsen and Lightning’s mood blackened to match the cloud.

  


_Ok_ _ay_ _, Mr McQueen,_ Doctor Corrigan began, _I will allow you one lap of the track without the limiter, before this weather closes in. I know it's important to you and I hope you will allow it to do you good.  I don't doubt your capability, but I advise you to be cautious._

  


Lightning shook himself, waited to be disconnected and rolled up to the line.  He wondered if he heard Sally shout something, but he wasn't sure and didn't turn back to find out. 

  


_Faster than fast, quicker than quick. I am Lightning._

  


On the green he tore off the line. 40mph, 60, 100... he was home. 120mph, 150, 190... he passed the line, forgetting to slow, ploughing past the gathered cars who could only look on in amazement. 

  


Or fear, as was the case for Sally. _Don't be silly_ , she told herself sternly, _he's in good shape and this is what he loves_. Listening to officials had never been high on the his agenda. Well, apart from Doc. At that moment she would have given anything for Doc Hudson to be here with them. Here for him. 

  


As Lightning hit 195mph he felt a heavy strain in his engine and realised he was holding his breath. He blew it out, then breathed in sharply. Then the flashback hit him square between the eyes. He saw the track, the crowd, the dark of the evening, the upstarts up ahead, felt the burning in his engine. He couldn't breathe. Was he imagining it or was he actually about to black out from lack of oxygen? He slammed his brakes on and skidded very roughly to a halt on the wet asphalt, managing only by skin of his teeth not to roll.  He sat by the third turn, only vaguely aware of the line of vehicles rushing towards him, his breath heaving and spots dancing before his eyes. 

  


Desolation. It was gone. He was finished. _Enjoy your retirement._


	6. Chapter 6

Day 28. Four weeks exactly. Sally daren't move even though she was parched, lest she disturb Lightning, who was settled into her side so closely she felt she was the only thing holding him up. Since the test drive, Doctor Corrigan had allowed Lightning to stay with Sally in her room at the institute. Anxiety, the Doctor had diagnosed.  Post-traumatic stress brought on by the accident resulting in, and further exacerbated by, violent flashbacks of which Lightning had never spoken until the day on the test-track.  The prognosis, though, was cautiously optimistic, the treatment time and care. Sally had that by the truck-load, and finally felt free and able to shower Lightning in love.  She ached for him to her core, feeling a vicious anger the like of which she had never experienced towards the injustice of his suffering. Visions of that hateful night would forever be branded on her memory, returning to her when triggered by a sound, something which caught her eye, or simply unbidden in the middle of the night.  The realisation that Lightning suffered the same but to a dramatically more terrifying extent took the wheels from under her.  Tears sprang to her eyes then and she nestled closer to him, willing love through her paintwork to him where they touched.  

  


Lightning opened his eyes to find the room still dark. Where was he? It took him a split second to realise, as he felt Sally breathe bedside him, pressed right up to his wings. He had grown so used to the gentle, regular beeps and whirrs, the ever-present light and voices of the surgery that the quiet and stillness of the room he now shared with Sally made him wonder if he had lost his senses every time he woke up.  But she was always there, in the next moment. Thank the Lord for her. She steadied him, righted him. He had been locked inside his own head as much as within the surgery the past few weeks and only now did he realise what that had done to him. He had been ignoring it, pushing it back, so desperate was he to get back out there.  Now the floodgates had opened.  As soon as he started to talk about what he saw in his head, what he had seen every day without fail since the crash, it was as though he had given his demons the green light. Each night since the day at the test-track he had awoken before dawn, his engine seized in fright, gasping for air as if he might drown. Pulled down by the leaden weight of failure in his core.  He sighed. 

  


_Morning, Stickers,_ Sally said.

  


  


A little while later, Sally joined Lightning on the balcony where she had sat not so long very long ago feeling filled up with hope at the sound of his engine. Had the hope gone from her after the events of the last week, after witnessing his fear, his vulnerability and sitting by his side as he descended through another circle of the hell they were enduring? No, it had not. Sally had always taken pride in her ability to turn her anger to action, her disappointment to determination and to keep on keeping on. She drew the strength to do so from the love of those she loved in return. She took a deep breath and filled herself up with the energy the fresh new day always brought her, grateful in her very soul that she had this day and that she had him. 

  


_Hey..._ she kissed Lightning's fender and leant into him, looking out to the horizon alongside him. 

  


_Hey,_ he replied, _pretty_ _nice view from up her_ _e._

  


_Better than the Wheel Well?_

  


_Nothin' and nowhere is better than the Wheel Well,_ he replied. He turned his gaze to her, _It’s where_ _I fell in love_ _._

  


He smiled, remembering that day. Learning to slow down, to take a drive. Learning that what mattered to someone else could mean the world to him. 

  


Sally’s beautiful smile lit up her face. _We'll be there in a couple of days. I can't wait to be home. To have you home._

  


Lightning pulled away just a little, feeling the familiar hollow sensation in his tank, but not wanting to worry Sally. Of course he wanted to go home, it's was just that...

  


_Everyone's so excited._ Sally said. _The way Flo's been talkin' sounds like they've painted the town red! Well not literally, the town, you know - although I bet Ramone had something to do with a banner or two..._ She was nervous, so keen for him to share her belief that going home to Radiator Springs would be the best medicine yet.

  


He didn't know what to say, somehow, how to respond. 

  


_Anyhow... oh I'm sorry, Stickers, I'm rambling, I just know it'll be better for you to be at home,_ she looked at him, eyes sparkling.

  


How did she manage to get up each day like the last month hadn't happened? She didn't show a hint of tiredness when Lightning knew she barely slept. He knew she hurt sometimes too, he'd heard her tears when she hoped he was sleeping. His heart broke, his gears jammed, yet on she went. He couldn't keep up. 

  


_Yeah... yeah, it'll be good to... to get outta here at least,_ he tried to smile, cocky always his default defence. He turned away from her, looking at the view without seeing it. 

  


_Lightning?_ Sally said gently, _you ok_ _ay_ _?_  

  


_Hmmm..._ His response worried Sally. _Do you want to talk about it?_ she ventured.

  


_Ah, I don't know, Sal, it's not that I don't want to go home - I do, I just... I don't know if..._ he faltered. She tried to help, moving around to look into his face. 

  


_If things will be the same as before?_

  


_Uh-huh,_ he replied quietly, not meeting her eye. She sensed his reticence. 

  


_Radiator Springs hasn't changed in 50 years, Lightning, it'll be the same._ The mood didn't lighten as she hoped.

  


_Listen, you've gotta give it time..._

  


He turned away from her again, a low growl of frustration leaving his lips. Sally realised now wasn't the time to plough on. He'd rather be anywhere than in this conversation. She watched him move away.  

  


Lightning's anger wasn't towards Sally, not at all. She was the only one he would dare show his true feelings to. But how could he explain to her, get her to see that it wasn't home that had changed beyond recognition, it was him. 

  



	7. Chapter 7

The sunset began to douse itself in inky blue, the desert rolled on outside the windows of the trailer. Inside, LEDs twinkled like stars above, but Lightning could sleep. It was odd, rolling in Mack's trailer usually sent him straight off. Sally was, for once, soundly asleep in front of him and he was relieved for her. She must be exhausted. He felt edgy, full of energy he didn't know how to direct. Racing. That's what he knew, that was where he harnessed and put to good use his restlessness. Now he didn't know if he belonged to the racetrack anymore. The future belonged to the rookies, deep down he knew that, but he never - never - expected to be forced out like this. Kept away from his passion - his life - by fear. Ghosts in his own mind. He felt the familiar sensation of anger rise in his system, but, at the same time, weariness – he was sick of the sound and feel of his own misery. Sighing, he turned his attention to the view from the trailer windows. The stars began to show themselves behind thin veils of cloud highlighted chrome by the moon. He looked out to the horizon and saw landmasses rising from the ground; ancient, solid, secure. He squinted to make them out more clearly in the growing gloom, the last light of the evening fading away in deepest purple. _The Cadillacs_ , he said quietly to himself, realising what he was looking at – the mountains standing sentinel at the head of the valley where Radiator Springs sat waiting. Home. Quiet but certain joy bubbled up within him, spreading a smile across his face. He laughed out loud, the feeling was so unexpected. The dread which had dogged his mind and body at the thought of returning home now seemed small, insignificant in the face of his spirits, which, for the first time in so long, soared. Sally stirred in her sleep.

  


_Stickers?_ She said, sleepily.

  


_Shh, shhhhh,_ Lightning soothed, kissing her bumper. _Go back to sleep, we’re almost_ _home_ _._

  


Sally exhaled and smiled, drifting. _That’s good._

  


Blackness enveloped them, but Lightning welcomed it this time. Sunrise would bring them home.

  


  


_Rise and shine, bucko, we’re here,_ Mack appeared on the intercom just as the dawn began to seep over the land, casting long reaching shadows away from the rock-forms either side of the road. Lightning had managed to doze a little overnight while they sat in the truckstop, but had awoken around an hour ago, perhaps somehow sensing in the bends of Route 66 the land to which he belonged.

  


_Morning, Mack,_ Lightning said, _Thanks for driving us._

  


_Hey, kid, you’re welcome. Good to have you back,_ Mack replied. _Bet you can’t wait to get back to it, huh? Before you know it you’ll be trained up and we’ll be back on the road for the season!_

  


_Uh… yeah…_ Lightning said, feeling a slight sinking feeling in his tank. I _think a little downtime might be in order first, you know, Mack…_

  


_Huh,_ Mack chuckled, t _ell that to your crew – look out the window!_

  


They passed the roadside sign welcoming them to Radiator Springs and Lightning groaned. There were dozens of squat red hellium-baloon-cars bedecked in golden lightning bolts floating above the sign. _The first sign of trouble_ , he thought. Sure enough, as they pulled into Main Street, flags could be seen strung from lamp-post to lamp-post across the street, and a huge banner proclaiming Welcome Home McQueen hung from the court-house wall. _Ah, man._

  


Sally roused as Mack came to a stop. Blinking, she realised instantly that they were home and she looked up at Lightning, eyes wide.

  


_Welcome home, Stickers,_ she said, smiling. Then, seeing the look on his face, _You ok_ _ay_ _?_

  


_Yeah, yeah,_ he said quickly, _I just kinda wanted a quiet homecoming, you know. No fuss…_

  


_Believe me,_ Sally said, _this is the fuss-free option. Took me all week to convince Flo to cancel the_ _band! And lord knows the boys were disappointed when I said no dancers..._

  


Lightning looked uncertain.

  


_It’s just the guys, Lightning. I even managed to convince the news-crews to hit the road – so long as we give them a press release soon they’ve promised to keep clear. Plus the Sheriff is keeping watch – Flo said he had three of ‘em in the impound a week ago!_

  


He managed a small smile. She rolled forwards and placed her tire on his fender. _You ready?_

  


_No_ , Lightning said. _Let’s g_ _o._

  


Mack dropped the ramp and Sally backed off first, followed by Lightning. Looking up at him, she was reminded of the day Mack and Harv swooped into this very street all those years ago. Whisking him back off to their world and away from Radiator Springs. That day he had looked lost, today was little different. She swallowed as she realised that, when it came down to it, it had been Doc Hudson who had help Lightning find himself. Now he wasn’t here to do it again.

  


Reaching the bottom of the ramp, Lightning looked around at the assembled faces. They were all quiet, stoic, there was none of the cheering and chatter he had expected. Ramone, Flo, Sarge and Filmore, Red, Lizzie, Mater and the Sheriff, Guido and Luigi. Sally. He felt choked, unable to speak.

  


It was the Sheriff who broke the silence. Rolling forward to Lightning, he cleared his throat. _Welcome home, son._

  


Lightning sighed, _It’s good to be home._

  


He smiled, and his relief seemed to spread to the gathered friends. Mater offered him a front tire to bump, which Lightning returned. Red smiled, teary-eyed. Sally beamed.

  


_Good to see you fighting fit,_ _soldier,_ piped up Sarge, Filmore nodding beside him and smiling contentedly.

  


Luigi sniffed, _Such a happy day_ , Guido placed a comforting fork on his friend’s side.

  


Flo rolled over and kissed Lightning on the fender. _Not been the same without you,_ _honey,_ she said.

  


_What? Has he been away?_ This from Lizzie. Everyone chuckled, the ice truly broken.

  


_Thanks, Flo – thanks everyone,_ Lightning said, _for…. well, you know… for everythin_ _g._

  


_Hey no_ _worries_ _, man,_ said Filmore. _We’re here for ya._

  


_Hey boss,_ Mack said then. _I’m gonna mot_ _or_ _over to Flo’s – got a heck of a thirst after the driv_ _e._

  


_Sure, Mack,_ Lightning replied.

  


Everyone began to disperse, quiet chatter now enlivening the atmosphere. Sally moved alongside Lightning and gave him a reassuring smile as they began to motor down the street.

  


_Yo,_ _McQueen!_ Ramone called. Lightning paused and looked at his friend. How’s ‘bout _gettin’ suited up? I’m thinkin’_ _classic_ _suns_ _et_ _flame – gonna pop right outta that red, man…_

  


_Uh, Ramone… thanks, buddy, an’ all, but… I’m not… I don’t know…_

  


_You need your number, Stickers,_ Sally interjected. _Contractual obligation,_ she winked at him _._ Lightning was grateful for her quick reaction compensating for his hesitation. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his friend’s feelings, but Ramone’s suggestion of getting his racing colours painted back on over the primer grey had brought jitters to his fuel tank and he felt a little breathless.

  


_No problems, man – 95 it is._ Ramone lead the way to his shop, realising but not voicing his feeling that the road to recovery for his friend might be longer than any of the crew hoped.

  


  


_There ya go, man_ Ramone said a short while later _I’m feelin’ the red._

  


Lightning looked sideways at himself through the full length mirror in the paint shop. Number 95; his calling card. It represented everything he’d worked for, everything he stood for. But right now, it brought him little comfort, as no matter how hard he tried to focus on the shining new paint on his rear wings, it couldn’t distract his attention from the dull, mismatched grey which had replaced his once pristine paint-job. Rainclouds. Dust. Ash.

  


_You ok,_ _dude_ _?_ Ramone’s question made Lighting jump.

  


_Yeah… sorry, Ramone – thanks, it’s great,_ he smiled half-heartedly.

  


_No problems,_ Ramone replied. He felt for his friend, hated to see him so low. _Hey - don’t leave me too long dreamin’ up a new paint-job for you, man – might get carried away…_

  


Lightning smiled at Ramone. _You got it._

  


The two cars motored out of the shop and onto Main Street together. The town was quiet and Lightning was grateful for that. After working so hard alongside his fellow townsfolk to get Radiator Springs back on the map and as popular with travellers as ever it was, it was ridiculous to think he would be happy for it to go back to completely empty right now. At the end of the road, he could make out the Sheriff – standing guard, Lightning imagined, keeping the world away. Comfort swelled within Lightning’s system, knowing his friends, his family, were closing ranks to protect him, to give him time to heal. He saw Flo in her café forecourt, listening along with Sarge and Filmore to a no doubt long-winded, no doubt hilarious anecdote from Mater. Luigi and Guido were arranging a delivery of new snow tires – Lightning reflected that the season would soon turn. Lizzie snoozed contentedly on her porch and Red quietly watered the nearby planters. Lightning caught Sally’s eye as she crossed the driveway of the Cosy Cone, returned her smile. So far, so familiar. But there was one familiar face missing from the home he loved, one he had never felt the loss off more acutely than at that moment. Doc Hudson. Lightning carried on down the road past Flo’s as Ramone turned into the forecourt. Ramone might have said something, or was it Mater who called out? He wasn’t sure. He headed for the place he felt might bring him the closeness to his coach and mentor he desperately wanted. Arriving at Doc’s old garage, he recalled vividly the day he first set tire through those doors. Young, reckless, spoiled. Foolish. Blinded by his own self-importance to what had been right in front of his eyes – the key to his future. He cringed inwardly at his younger self, so grateful that Doc had chosen to see past that and had, gradually, taken the rookie under his wing. There, Lightning had felt safe. When Doc has passed away, he had felt cut adrift. Now, he felt lost.

  


Lightning pushed open the garage door and motored inside. The smell of dust sat over the top of oil and wax. Motes whirled in the weakened sunlight which pressed through lowered blinds at the windows. Time slowed, deadened, as if nothing had altered since the last time Doc had switched off the radio and driven out. Squinting a little in the gloom after the cool, clear daylight outside, Lightning’s eyes were drawn, inevitably, to a framed newspaper cutting on the wall.

  


The doors of the garage swung slowly closed on their hinges, but Lightning was too far gone down the back-roads of his own mind to even notice.


	8. Chapter 8

That first evening after arriving home, Sally pushed gently open the doors of Doc’s old garage to ask Lightning if he wanted to come home with her. After he’d refused – not unkindly, saying he just wanted some time alone to think – she had spent an entirely sleepless night at the Cone. Her eyes had barely left the garage across the street, her hearing repeatedly prickling as she imagined him startling awake in terror as he had done so often during the long nights at the institute. An oh so familiar ache took up residence in her engine once more.

  


  


The next day, having given his buddy the longest lie-in he could manage, Mater pushed open the garage door full of energy and full of suggestions for filling the fine, sunny day. A couple of minutes later, he found himself back out on the street, disappointed at having to find something else to do that was anything like as appealing as spending time with his best friend. He couldn’t think of a darn thing.

  


  


After the first week and seeing Sally once again motor back to the Cone alone, dejected and tearful, Flo decided to take a drink over to Doc’s old place. While the drink was appreciated, her company seemed to bring no such relief.

  


  


After a fortnight, Luigi and Guido rolled a few sample tires through Doc’s old garage doors imagining discussing the merits of the latest offerings from Lightyear would bring some cheer to their friend – bring him out of himself and, with luck, out of hiding. Luck, however, didn’t favour them, and the slump in their expressions and in their downbeat frames as they returned to their shop made Sally’s tank churn all the more.

  


  


When the time ticked over to a month, the Sheriff and Sarge had had enough. They felt they should give the kid a talking to – snap him out of it! This effort probably drew the greatest level of attention from the residents of Radiator Springs so far in that it was the most noise anyone had heard for weeks. But the raised voices died down, Lightning’s having never joined the fray, and the cruiser and jeep soon rolled down to Flo’s for a consolatory top-off.

  


  


The late summer sun began to lose it’s intensity, although the brilliant blue sky never faltered. Red tried pushing several planters of the new season’s flowers onto the driveway of the garage, wanting to impart to his friend even just a little of the joy they brought him. As the air began to cool, stirred by winds from the North, Filmore popped a can of all-natural, anti-cruelty anti-freeze through the garage door. McQueen had to travel this road in his own sweet time, he thought, but he sure wouldn’t mind his friend bringing them along for the ride.

  


  


On the first day Sally awoke to find a chill in the air, she experienced something she hadn’t done since she’d left her old life in the city behind. She sat in the forecourt of the Cosy Cone, took the deep breath she always began her day with, drawing the new day into her and waiting for new hope to flood her system… but it didn’t come. But then, neither did tears. She sighed. Now over two months since they had got back and in that time she had cried herself dry. From being by his side day and night before to going sometimes days without so much as laying eyes on him and even longer between coaxing more than a few words from him. Eyeing the old garage with narrowed eyes, she turned away sharply to attend, angrily, to the first of her chores of the day. Dammit, she had brought him home – why couldn’t home do it’s job and bring him back to her?!

 

Mater heard the tumbledown of a pile of ornamental cones outside the motel, heard Sally’s curses cut through the crisp morning air and steeled himself. This had to work, it just had to. They were all done with the waiting, and he was pretty darn sure that, underneath all this self-imposed-isolation-and-moping nonsense, McQueen likely was too. Problem was that coming at it from the front hadn’t worked for anyone up to now. But Mater had a different approach…

  


_Reverse psychography…_ he narrowed his eyes, a slow smile spreading as he motored noisily past Doc’s garage and out of town towards Willy’s Butte.

 

  


_What is that boy up to?_

  


Sheriff and Ramone were stood above the raceway watching Mater dash around the oval creating clouds of dust in the chill air. Each of the previous three days the Sheriff had noticed Mater heading out of the town for no apparent reason, returning some time later muttering to himself about speed, RPMs and such. He had mentioned it to Ramone at Flo’s. Ramone said he had seen Mater call into Doc’s garage every day on his way back into town. Something which Mater, like the rest of them, hadn’t done so much of in the last little while. He didn’t stay long, but he came away whistling to himself and swinging his tow-cable. He was keeping oddly schtum around town, though, so the Sheriff and Ramone had decided to investigate for themselves.

  


_Yo, Mater, – you thinkin’ of a career change, man? Goin’ out on the road instead o’ McQueen?_ Ramone shouted down to Mater as he rolled to a stop by the starting line.

  


_T_ _hought I’d_ _best be_ _get_ _tin’_ _some exercise, is all - keep things loose now the cold’s startin’ to set in._ The tow truck revved his engine, hunkering his hood down low and sticking his rear end as high in the air as it would go.

  


_Faster than, er….shoot, how’s it go? Oh ye_ _a_ _h – fast!_ He dropped his behind onto his suspension, imitating Lightning’s racing start and began to move off the line – decidedly less dramatically than his inspiration, however.

  


Ramone smiled, his eyes narrowed, _what is he up to?_

  


  


  


_The season is wide open and the championship is there for the rookie’s taking. That’s right, Bob - there hasn’t been a challenger for the title this strong in a long time – and I mean a long time!_ The field was his, open track in front of him and he was flying. The Legend, the Runner Up far behind him. Rounding the bend, he eased into a drift and sailed over the sand like a hubcap skimmed across a lake. _And there it is! With one incredible move, he’s passed them. The Hornet takes a decisive lead…_ Engine noise passing inches from his side. But then; shaking, a swerve, tires losing their grip on the asphalt, _McQueen is fading! Fading fast…_ searing pain in his rear fender... 

  


_Hey Champ – y’alright?_

  


_Whoa! What?!_ Lightning’s eyes shot open and he struggled to catch his breath.

  


_I said –_ _hey, buddy -_ _y’alright?_ Came Mater’s voice from outside the garage door. It opened a crack, s _orry, bud, didn’t mean t’ startle ya…_

  


Lightning’s head throbbed. He closed his eyes and shook his hood, trying to clear the fog of sleep and swirling visions, Memories floating away even as he tried to pin them down. The room came slowly into better focus and he felt more at ease. This old garage was his sanctuary and escape and it’s walls enclosed and numbed the pain he felt when he thought of the outside world. Yet all around him he saw reminders of what he’d lost – racing. Doc’s passion, his passion. Confusion and frustration fought for supremacy in his aching mind – and now here was Mater again, making it all the worse with his prattle...

  


… _wonderin’ how you was doin. Mind if I pick ya brains ‘gain? See, there’s this bump in the track ‘bout halfway down the back straight and I’m darned if I can’t keep from almost smashing m’shocks to smithereens every dang time I go ‘round…_

  


_Mater, Mater…_ Lightning began. Finding his voice slightly hoarse from lack of use, he coughed, clearing it before carrying on. _Slow down a bit, buddy – what’re you talking about? Willy’s Butte?_

  


_Yeh, been down there again – good to get the old joint’s a’workin,_ Mater flexed his front axel to demonstrate his point, flashing his eyes and smiling at Lightning. The race-car’s mind swam a little, he couldn’t quite fathom these recent conversations with Mater, so different were they from the tone of those he had been used to enduring from everyone lately. He had just about gotten used to the quiet, stilted, mainly one-sided, thankfully short-lived exchanges which punctuated his days and found he could filter them pretty effectively. Despite his lingering annoyance at being forced to concentrate harder than he had done in a while on anything outside of his own thoughts, his interest had been piqued by the tow-truck...

  


_You’re here for advice? On getting round the track, what – in one piece?_

  


_Shoot no, I’m after improvin’ m’ lap-time!_

  


_Lap time?_ Apart from one occasion involving government-issue rocket boosters Lightning couldn’t recall Mater taking much interest in anyone’s lap-time other than his own. _Ok… well, I guess…_

  


_Well blow me down with a wingnut, look at the time… better get m’toosh down to the yard for closin’ up. Sorry, bud, we’ll get back to strategisin’ another time, ok? G’night!_

  


And with that Mater backed smoothly out of the garage doors and closed them, leaving Lightning with an unfamiliar sensation – disappointment at the lack of conversation.

 


	9. Chapter 9

It was as if he could feel every fragment of stone, every grain of dirt under his tires. Whether it was the cocooning stillness of the desert night which had heightened his senses, or whether it was the anticipation, Lightning couldn’t tell. A new moon shone down on Willy’s Butte, the bowl of the oval shining in the iridescent light like a reflector. The air was still, yet it tingled. Electric.

  


_Just can’t get the hang o’that turn – y_ _’_ _know, the one where Doc sent you flyin’ into the cactus? Dang that was funny!_ Lightning saw Mater  laugh  in his mind’s eye.  _Good th_ _i_ _ng you had Doc to show you how it’s done – could do with some help m’self. Oh but don’t_ _you_ _worry_ _none,_ _bud - don’t_ _ex_ _pect you to come down to the track or nothin’. Lordy! ‘_ _S_ _pect you’d have to go in the middle of the night when there’s no folks about and everyone’d be sleepin’ so there’d be no chance of ‘em seein’ you sneak outta here, n’all…_ His best friend had shot a sneaky, sidelong look at Lightning  as they sat in Doc’s garage  earlier during Mater’s now daily visit. 

  


Subtlety had never been in his best friend’s repertoire. Nevertheless, Mater’s ploy had planted a seed in Lightning’s mind which gently but certainly grew over the day. He reasoned that he just wanted to see the place, he didn’t have to take a lap or anything, didn’t have to gun it even if he did. His old self laughed at him from the recesses of his mind – _as if you could resist,_ _McQueen!_

  


So here he was. In the dark. Facing his fear, facing the possibility of bringing his demons to his home turf all the way from that test track at the  medical centre . While ever he sat here, at the line, staring down the straight, he could imagine nothing had changed from this time last year when he began to think of preparations for the  upcoming season. The season which would turn the worst in his career,  w recking his frame and his confidence. 

  


He took a deep breath, blowing it out in a whistle. He’d gone over and over the incident at the Institute, examining every part of his blast around the test track which should have sealed his clean bill of health had it not brought on such a powerful and debilitating flashback. He eventually focussed in on the sensation of not being able to get enough air. He recalled this feeling from the LA 500 too, right before the crash. Thinking of it now he felt his system react, constricting, making him breathe more rapidly. _Focus,_ he told himself, _there’s plenty of air out here_. He looked out to the view before him, to the rocky terrain and star-lit sky which had given him so much, taken care of him and made him grow up. Seen him fight, resist, deny and then consider, engage and enjoy. Love. Here it was inconceivable that he could suffocate, this place gave him life. 

  


He flexed his wheels, set his sights and started his engine.

  


 

Radiator Springs slumbered quietly, waiting for the dawn. A fresh, cleansing breeze danced down Main Street, blowing in the changing season. Neon lights rested, waiting for a chance to burst into life. All except those above the Cosy Cone. The gently snoozing car on the motel’s signpost proclaimed Vacancies – inviting the weary traveller into it’s protection should they pass even in the middle of the night. Inside her cone, Sally slept alone, but…

  


She could see him, up ahead somewhere, couldn’t she? She could certainly hear him – the distant growl of that V8 bringing her system alive, sharpening her senses and making her itch to close the distance between them. She flew along the road, around gently sweeping turns, moving with the land around her. The forest, alongside the stream, dappling sunlight warming her paint. She pushed her revs higher, flying through the air and loving the feel of it. She understood completely. Rounding a corner she saw the valley laid out before her, bathed in summer sunshine. And there he was. Her love. Gleaming red paintwork, picked out in sweeping cream, black, gold, the number 95 encircled in white. Whole. A sweet, slow, utterly adorable smile spread across his face and she was dazzled by the light in his eyes – his energy. They were so close she could hear him breathe, the slightest effort would bring her to him. Joy soared within her and soothed her cares.

  


Along the road, under the shelter at the back of his lot, Mater most definitely wasn’t asleep. He was listening hard, not entirely sure if he was imagining the very distant rumble of a very powerful engine or not. His instinct as McQueen had rolled past almost silently a while before was to launch himself out of the gate and down the road alongside his buddy, whoopin’ and hollerin’ in jubilation! But he instead managed to continue to feign sleep, snoring noisily to make it more convincing - _being skilled in the ways of espionage, y’understand_. He eventually drifted off, content with the progress in his master plan.

  


At the crack of dawn - and to the familiar soundtrack of bugle calls and electric riffs mixed with consternation – Mater jumped up, knocking over a pile of goodness knows what, he didn’t even check behind him and headed out of his gate. Rolling down the road and whistling jollily, he reminded himself to remain calm - keep it loosy-goosey.

  


_Don’t want folks gettin’ all excited and gettin’ in the way if they cotton on that McQueen’s back to it_ he thought, slowing down a little. Nothing could keep the smile off his face, though.

  


All morning he rumbled about, towing a delivery truck which coughed and stalled it’s way into town in need of some assistance. He chatted to Sarge, Ramone, Flo, was chatted at by  L izz ie and he made several loops of the road through town. Each time he passed Doc’s garage he cast sidelong glances, pretended to look at something nearby or just past. Once, he  deliberately bounced a wrench of of his back onto the forecourt so that he could drive up to the doors.  Making a big show of collecting it and bemoaning the darned thing, he hoped his best pal would throw open the doors on hearing his voice and launch into a dramatic retelling of his  night-time racing escapades…. But no such thing happened.  _Ah, dang._

  


Mater made his daily visit to Willy’s Butte later in the afternoon, and again the following day, and the one after. Each time he called straight in to see Lightning afterwards, knowing that his friend had also visited their home raceway in the dead of night. He talked around the subject, alluded, suggested and coaxed, never wanting to spell it out that he knew McQueen had been back at the track although he was now desperate to know how it had gone down. Mater wasn’t a worrier by nature, he’d always found it really quite easy to shrug off things which didn’t turn out quite right. He supposed he was just lucky that way. Then again, he had never had such a nasty accident. Never had cause to lose his way. Sure he’d felt sad; back in the old days when Radiator Springs started to change and time, like the folks on the new Interstate, began to pass them by. But his family and friends were what was important to him and they hadn’t changed. His home mattered and it was still here. So he did OK, all things considered. He couldn’t honestly say he understood how McQueen felt, or could fully imagine what it must be like to suffer flashbacks, terror, fear of what was the most natural thing in the world to you. But he did know that what he wanted, more than anything, was to fix it for his buddy. He was a fixer by nature, so undeterred by McQueen refusing to be drawn on his progress on the track, Mater just kept on rolling and kept on prattling, ever hopeful.


	10. Chapter 10

The projection light flickered, stalled and then blazed onto the screen. The reel span, clicking away. The old machine complained a little having not been used in a while, but it did a perfectly good job. Lightning re-read the reel case - _Fireball Beach, 19_ _5_ _4_ _._ Gradually, over the time he had spent here in Doc’s garage, in the old race-car’s personal space, Lightning had gone through and gone over every article, every write-up, report, radio broadcast tape and film reel stored there. An entire career laid out before him. Well, two, in fact – there was plenty contained within the files and cases relating to Lightning himself and his time as Doc’s protégé. Lightning had paid little mind to anything he found concerning himself, finding it made him feel uneasy to think of what his mentor would say to him if he was here now. Instead he poured over Doc’s life and legacy, even though he had seen a lot of it before either with Doc himself when he was alive or else on display at the museum. He was inescapably drawn to the details of the Hudson Hornet’s dramatic fall from grace – his crash, failed comeback and subsequent retirement. He imagined the look on Doctor Corrigan’s face if he were to let slip that this was what occupied most of his time. The surgeon had visited Lightning in Radiator Springs a few times over the weeks, checking up on his physical recovery – which was deemed excellent. A much greater challenge, Lightning found, was convincing the Doctor that he was making any progress in how he felt. Honestly, he felt in a kind of suspense, not really feeling anything – not low, not overjoyed. Waiting, but for what? Somehow he couldn’t find it in himself to discuss his recent visits to the track. Not with anyone.

  


On the screen, the film came into focus and music played. The voices of the commentators rang out, excited. Lightning knew these races – on hallowed ground, sacred dirt, legendary to his generation – must have been spectacular. He watched the Husdon Hornet dominate the field, passing a veritable who’s who of the racing world of decades gone one by one until he was out in front by a mile. A classic drift; his signature move. Lightning smiled to himself. _Turn right to go left._ Then, in a split second, it all unravelled. Lightening couldn’t take his eyes off the screen as he saw his friend and teacher slide, swerve, lose control and roll over and over. He flinched, his shell seeming to remember the sensation all too well and bristling in sympathy. He felt shock, terror on behalf of his friend, forgetting in that moment that he knew what happened afterwards. He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him and he turned around quickly, startled. Sally was sat just inside the doors of the garage. Lightning hadn’t even registered her arrive, now she didn’t seem to register him looking at her – she stared straight past him up at the screen, her eyes furrowed, sad, lips now pressed together. His engine jumped into his throat. He rolled to her side and leant into her, wanting to comfort her. Did he expereince, watching Doc’s wreck, how she had felt on that night in LA? It must have been so much worse for her as she had lived it in real time and without the benefit of hindsight to tell her how it would all work out.

  


_Sal?_ He said, feeling her press into him.

  


_Hey..._ she replied, quiet. Shaky. She cleared her throat, shook herself slightly. _Sorry, that caught me off guard a little… I’ve never seen that film before…. Anyways…_

  


She paused, looked sideways at Lightning. _Upbeat_ she told herself _keep it moving!_ She blinked several times. The room was almost pitch dark, the projector the only source of light in the room, dimmer now that the reel had come to an end. She should go and switch the light on. Suggest, as she always did, that they go out, do something – anything. But she couldn’t move. She could feel every single square-inch of where Lightning’s bodywork touched hers. His gorgeous blue eyes looking at her, concerned for her. Seeing her. She couldn’t bear it, her engine constricted, but she didn’t want it to end. She sighed out her breath, Lightning did the same, their eyes closed and the two cars settled into each other’s side and each other’s care, just for a moment.

  


_Anyways?…_ Lightning prompted, not opening his eyes, not moving an inch.

  


_Anyways..._ Sally began, and Lightning enjoyed to hear the smile in her voice. She gave his fender a quick, playful kiss before motoring over to the light switch. Lightning blinked as the room lit up.  _I’m on my way over to the Wheel Well, wanna take a drive?_

  


He was actually tempted. In his mind he saw the achingly beautiful ribbon of road on the mountainside and felt in his tires the sensation of freedom that driving that route brought him. Driving. Flying through the air, the wind rushing. His passion and his life. These past few nights at the track he had tested his metal, pushed himself, willed his body to soar and his mind to cope...

  


_Breath through it, Lightning,_ Doc Corrigan had said to him. _Accept how you feel, it’s not wrong, not right, it just is – grappling with it won’t make it roll over - it will make it fight you harder. You’ve put the work in to recover physically, and that’s great, but it’s not like that with your mind, son – you can’t push, can’t control, alls you can do is accept, and breathe._

  


Sally’s voice came to him _. It doesn't matter, Lightning... just breathe - look at me, Stickers, breathe…_

  


She’d given him the answer right at the start. As his revvs climbed along the straights and his speed notched up, flying round the bowl, dust circling, he took their advice. Inhale, exhale. Feeling his system tighten, panic hovering at the edges of his mind and fog at the edges of his vision – deep breath, blow it out – the darkness receded. Practise - and a lot of it - made it natural, made it stick. Amazing. Completely confounding - how something so simple could conquer his demons. Speed. Like a long-lost friend waiting just out of sight it had returned to him now the time was right and his system felt full to bursting. It was addictive, reminding him of the early days when he first discovered the joy of racing and could think and dream of nothing but... 

  


Sally was looking at him hopefully and he so wanted to make her happy. He opened his mouth to speak  but stopped in his tracks as he caught the sound of voices floating in through the garage doors on the evening air.

  


_Hey - you two! Move along there, this here’s private property._ The Sheriff’s whirling red light shone between the doors for a moment before the sound of several sets of tires could be heard moving away.

  


_Wonder what that was all about?_ Lightning said, feeling a slight dread in his tank, the  optimism of a few moments before fading.

  


_Oh you know, probably just kids – you’re still a hero, you know, folks want to know you’re okay, that you’ll be back,_ Sally said. She wanted him to understand that there could be happy times ahead, that he needn’t fear getting back to what he loved. Yes there were dangers - Lordy, did they know that now. And things had changed in the Cup, in favour of the young ones. He was going to need to be strong. They all were. But he had to want it, he had to make it happen. But even as she looked at him, the light in his eyes seemed to darken in front of hers.

  


_You know, Sal, I think I’ll raincheck… just for tonight, okay?_

  


She was tempted not to give him the approval, the reassurance he wanted from her. She didn’t want to give him permission to sit here, avoiding, stagnating and – what? –  gradually  rusting  away? She closed her eyes briefly, breathed deep.

  


_Sure,_ she said,  _see you around, Stickers._

  


Lightning watched as she turned around and left and slumped on his tires. _A hero?_ _Yeah, right._ He might have got the flashbacks in check on the track, but the fear? The shame, the terror at the idea of being rejected? Oh no, that wasn’t going anywhere fast. No matter how he looked at it, his best on the track just wasn’t good enough any more. _Good enough? Good enough for who?_ Did it still make him happy? Yes. Was that enough?..

  


  


Mater trundled down Main Street under a weak but welcome sun the next day. The gentle warmth of the morning light soothing his aching frame. Being honest with himself, all these laps of the track at Willy’s Butte weren’t doing his butte all that much good. _Startin’ to think this plan’s runnin’ out of steam faster than ol’ Stanley,_ he thought to himself. P _rob’ly a good thing, I ain’t built for all this careerin’ about front-ways._ When he’d woken up, he’d noticed his lot properly for the first time in a while. Over the weeks he’d stacked, sorted, arranged, prettified, straightened, categorised, alphabetised, organised - and just about everything else he could think of - the scrap and spares he looked after. He’d never seen the place look so ridiculous. He needed his best buddy back – things were starting to get plain dumb. How long had it been now? _Shoot! Four months_. Four long months. He knew McQueen had been to the track plenty of times now, Mater had even crept down there once to sneak a peek. By his reckoning, the kid was looking swell - like his old self ‘cept for the paint. Mater was glad he’d managed to start things rolling, but he didn’t think he could jump things up to the next level on his own. McQueen needed persuading, convincing – time to give the straight-on-from-the-front, straight-talking approach another shot, and for that he needed an expert.

  


  


_Mater, you know I’ve tried – I’ve tried time after time, from every angle I can think of._ Sally sighed, exasperated.  _I can’t get through to him…_

  


_There must be somethin’ else, somethin’ we haven’t thought on yet…_ Mater said.  _I wish Doc was here, he’d know what to say, what to do._

  


Sally huffed. R _ight now, I’ve had it up to my roof with Doc_ _Hudson_ _!_ Mater was surprised by her outburst. _If it wasn’t for all those darn films, all the memories… it’s a mire_ _Lightning_ _can’t get out o_ _f. If he would just..._

  


_He’s afraid_ Mater said suddenly.

  


_I know, I know…_ Sally said, o _f it happening again._

  


_Naw, not that - he’s prob’ly afraid folks’ll say he’s past it, that he’s not welcome anymore… like they said to Doc._ Mater looked at the ground,  suddenly understanding Doc better.  U nderstanding McQueen better. 

  


Sally’s eyes widened. It had been lost on her, but now it was clear as a bell. Lightning wasn’t terrified of racing. He was terrified of not racing. _Oh,_ _Stickers_ _._ She looked over at Doc’s garage from the office of the Cosy Cone.

  


She placed her front tire on Mater’s, smiled at her friend. It’d been a long road, were they finally reaching the destination?

  


_Come on, Mater_ she said. She motored across Main Street, followed by the tow-truck. The sounds of home and family floated on the calm air. As she reached the garage doors, she could hear the whirring of the old projector. Memories, the past. She had learnt only ever to look back if she could draw strength from what she saw. She would teach him to do the same. She motioned for Mater to wait where he was and he nodded, giving her a wink and hopeful smile. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. Beautiful blue eyes, glittering candy-red paint, the road and rushing air. When she opened her eyes they sparkled with new-found energy.

  


_Come on,_ _Lightning_ _,_ _please. S_ he set her sights, started her wheels to roll, pushed open the door. _You got_ _it, Stickers_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who had read - thank you very much


End file.
